


she walks in beauty (byron he is not)

by goddessqueen



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Loss of Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28721484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessqueen/pseuds/goddessqueen
Summary: After a drunken hook-up at the Bridgerton's NYE party, Penelope and Colin come to an agreement.Penelope needs experience to seduce her coworker. Colin needs a girlfriend to sell his poetry.They may as well help each other out, right?So they agree to sex and friendship, but no romance.Get that head, get that press, then leave.Surely, nothing could go wrong.
Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington
Comments: 21
Kudos: 191





	she walks in beauty (byron he is not)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! This is the multi-chapter Polin fic that I mentioned to a few of you in the comments of my other Polin fic, how NOT to romance penelope featherington. This was super fun to write but, again, unbeta-ed! I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter One: Like the Night

One minute, Penelope isn’t there and, the very next, she is. 

As Eloise’s best friend since childhood, Colin was quite used to seeing her at every event or function put together--and there were a lot of them. Having come from what most others would call Old Money, their mother had always planned enough parties for the neighborhood to satisfy both her children and the neighborhood gossips. And, ever since his most precocious sister and the shy redhead had met at pre-school, El had dragged her to every outing that she deemed uninteresting. Colin is pretty sure she’s never missed one. 

Which is why, as he finishes another drink and looks around the crowded living room, decorated with the last smatterings of Christmas decorations and the generally accepted New Year’s decorations, he notices that she the youngest Miss Featherington is nowhere to be found. 

“El,” he greets his sister, smiling wildly as he finds her on the balcony, nursing a gin and tonic and bantering with a male classmate. “Where is Penelope? I’m used to seeing her trailing behind you. Surely, with the way you two are attached at the hip, she’s not at another party!”

El, predictably, rolls her eyes. “She does not trail after me. We are equals. We trail after each other.” The boy who had been flirting with her opens his mouth to introduce himself to Colin. El cuts him off, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. He goes without question. “Besides, she’s on a date with some guy from work. Personally, I hope it goes well enough that we don’t see her tonight at all.”

Colin frowns, unsure how to respond, but, just then, he catches sight of a shock of red hair at the door to the living room. “Unfortunately for Penelope,” he says, tilting his head in her direction. “I think your hopes were in vain.”

El’s face falls, but, as she never remains disappointed for too long without coming up with another plan, she calls out, “Pen! Over here!” 

The redhead, dressed less for the party and more for a nice dinner, makes her way towards them immediately, only stopping to allow a familiar kissing couple pass in front of her. Her cheeks go as red as her hair and, finally getting close enough to talk and be heard over the music, she says, “Well, it seems like Simon and Daphne are still enjoying their honeymoon.”

El rolls her eyes. “Yeah, three months after they got back from England.”

“Good for them, I say,” Colin says, grinning and throwing an arm around Penelope. She goes redder and shoves him away. Colin only winks and grabs another drink from a passing waiter. If their mother were here and not presently getting wasted with Ms. Danbury in the Bahamas, he’d probably have to stop. But with only Anthony in charge, he’ll be fine. “Let lovers love and all that!”

Penelope lets out a small laugh. Just far enough away from the music and the noise of the party, her laugh echoes into the starry, cloudless December sky. “Is that the title of your next anthology? It would make a good poem, at the very least.”

He groans. “Come on, Pen, let’s not talk about work.”

“Actually,” El says, grabbing her dearest friend’s hand. “Let’s. Why are you here?”

Penelope raises her eyebrows. “Because I was invited. By you, Eloise, or did you forget?”

“Don’t play dumb,” El chastises her, narrowing her eyes. “You’re too smart for anyone to believe that. Why are you here and not on your date with Mr. Perfect?”

“Mr. Perfect?” Colin asks, snorting. “What makes him so perfect?”

Pen goes red, but shakes her head and doesn’t answer that. “The date, uh, ended early and I didn’t want to spend New Year’s alone so I came.” El opens her mouth to interrogate her more, but Penelope interrupts, grabbing two drinks from the same waiter and downing one in one gulp. “Now, if I have your permission, Lady Bridgerton, I’m going to go get drunk and dance. You’re welcome to join me.”

Clapping Colin on his shoulder, El follows her friend to the dancefloor that seemed to pop up after the third round of drinks for everyone. All his siblings are currently jumping to whatever is blasting through the speakers and Benedict is quick to pull El and Pen into his circle of bad dancing with his artist friends. 

He considers joining but, before he can even take a step toward them, El’s classmate returns and offers his clammy hand. He’s probably in Pen and El’s year--sophomore, then--but he possesses none of their composure. 

“Hi,” he greets awkwardly. Colin simply looks at him. “I’m a, uh, friend of your sister’s. El. Eloise. Anyway, I just wanted to come over and introduce myself. I’m a writer, too, specifically poetry like you and, uh, I just wanted to come and see if you could tell me anything about the sequel to When We Two Parted. I’m a huge fan and, really, it’s been a year--”

“Excuse me,” Colin answers, clenching his jaw and downing the rest of his drink when he sees Anthony and his longtime girlfriend, Siena, stumbling out of the coat closet. “I think my brother is summoning me. Nice to meet you.”

He pushes by him, grabbing yet another drink, and approaches his eldest brother. “Anthony.”

Drunk out of his mind, Anthony is thrilled to see Colin. “Brother! Merry Christmas!”

Siena snorts, slapping his arm. “Christmas was a week ago, love.”

“Still, I’m sure he appreciates the sentiment!”

“Oh, very much appreciated.” Sarcasm drips from every word.

Anthony narrows his eyes and, really, someone should stop El from developing his habits. “Why are you in a foul mood, dear Colin? We are celebrating another new year! So many wonderful things have happened. We are all healthy and happy, Benedict’s art is in galleries, El’s just secured a phenomenal internship. Simon manned up and married Daphne! What could have you so down?”

“That,” Colin answers, sighing as he gestures to El’s classmate. “Was the third person to ask about the sequel to When We Two Parted. Why do they think I would tell them when even my publisher does not know?”

“Ah, can you blame them?” Anthony asks, clapping him on the shoulder. “When you published it, it was all the city could talk about for months! The sensation, the drama, the heartbreak in shortened stanzas!”

“Don’t quote Lady Whistledown,” Siena laughs. “She may be listening right now!”

“You think she’s here?” Anthony asks and they dissolve into conspiracy theories about the most infamous gossip-monger in the city. The very one that, after When We Two Parted was released, had revealed every painful detail that had led to its creation. The very one that caused Colin to escape to Greece for half the year instead of dealing with everyone and their sister talking about his ex-fiancee and her baby with another man. 

Colin, suddenly feeling not at all in a partying mood and seeing the same classmate approaching him again, this time with another student, makes haste up the stairs and to his own bedroom. The upstairs, as any knowledgeable party guest knows, is only for residents and whoever they might invite for, ehem, more privacy. 

But, as he turns the corner in the hallway to take a breather in his own damn bed, he runs into someone who is certainly not his sibling. Penelope crashes into him with the force of a hurricane and, catching her with hands on her shoulders, he looks down at her to find her crying.

“Whoa, hey,” he says, blinking in surprise. “What’s wrong, Pen? What happened?”

“Great, just who I wanted to run into,” she mutters, pushing herself away and wiping her tears away with the back of her sleeve. “I’m fine, Colin, I just needed a minute to myself. I think I’m going to go home--”

Before she can even finish the thought, he’s pulling her into his bedroom. And, sure, they’ve both had enough alcohol that they stumble a bit before they close the door behind them, but there’s no way in the world he’s going to let her leave while she’s still crying. 

“Colin--”

“What happened?” he asks again, guiding her to sit on the edge of his bed. 

Her cheeks go bright red. “Colin, I’m fine, really. It’s nothing.”

He frowns at her, looking her up and down. And, yeah, still tipsy for sure, but he’s pretty sure a girl like Penelope Featherington shouldn’t be crying at party while dressed like she is. She should be...spinning around the dancefloor, laughing, or on the sofa with El, curled up like a kitten.

Swallowing and lowering his voice, he asks, “Did your date do something?”

She hiccups a sob. Or maybe it’s a laugh. “God, no. He was...perfect, as usual. It was me.”

“Oh,” he says after a second, trying to process that answer. He blinks and, frustrated, she buries her face in her hands and lets out a muffled scream. He, mimicking the move he did earlier, throws his arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. “Come on, Pen, I’m a genius but I’m not a mind reader. You gotta tell me what happened.”

With a frustrated groan, she pushes away from him and stands up. Turning around, she says, “Nothing happened! Nothing ever happens and it’s all my fault!” She screams just a little more before turning around and looking at him. In true Colin fashion, he’s sitting on the bed, looking equal parts confused and concerned for her mental state. 

“Penelope,” he says, voice low and honest. “Come back to the bed, sit down, and tell me what happened on this date to make you so upset. I’m not letting you leave here this upset and you know El won’t, either.”

She, of course, hesitates, and only aquieses when he pats the bed twice, leaving no more room for escaping this conversation. She flops on the bed, laying back completely and covering her face with her hands. “Okay, fine. But I don’t know how even start.”

He flops back, similarly, but rests his head on his hand so he can watch her as she regales him with the tale. She keeps her eyes closed, and, just a for a second, his eyes catch on the freckles that dot her nose. Cute, he thinks to himself. 

“Walk me through the date.”

Again, she hesitates, but he waits, patient, until she starts. 

“So he picked me up at the apartment,” she says, referring the small apartment she shares with El. “And we walked a few blocks to the nice Italian place down the street and, on the way, he tried to hold my hand and I pulled away--”

“Why?”

“--but he was fine with it, so we had a great dinner and talked the whole time and laughed and it was so fun--”

“I’m still not sure what happened--”

“And, you know, it was the third date so there were...expectations...so he walked me back home and it’s not like he pressured me or anything but, when he leaned in to kiss me at the door, I panicked and pushed him away and then I was so embarrassed that I made up having to come to this party and--”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Colin interrupts when the panic starts making her breathing more erratic, reaching forward to touch her shoulder. Her eyes pop open and her chest is heaving and, well, he tries his best to be a gentleman and not look. “Pen, it’s okay, calm down. Why did you panic?”

“I--” she tries, licking her lips. “I’m not sure. I just...I guess I was worried.”

“About what?” 

She stares at him for a moment, mentally debating if she wants to open up to him. 

“Come on, Penelope,” he says. “It’s me. We’ve known each other forever. You can tell me.”

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” she responds, words trailing quickly after each other. He blinks. She continue, “And it’s not even like I’m waiting for my soulmate or anything. I wanted to kiss him. But I was worried that I wouldn’t know what I was doing and it would be horrible and embarrassing and--”

“Wait,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “What do you mean you’ve never kissed anyone? You’re twenty.”

She glares at him, huffing and turning away. “Thanks, Colin, so comforting.”

“Wait, fuck, Pen,” he says, reaching out to turn her face back toward him. Have her eyes always been that intense color of green? She glares at him as he tries to explain, “I just mean...Pen, you’re a catch. You could kiss anyone you want. I just don’t know why you haven’t.”

She stares at him before shaking her head and shrugging. “It never felt right. And I like Martin--that’s his name, by the way--but I’m not...comfortable enough with him. I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

His eyes, regardless of the fact that his brain does not give them permission, flicker to her lips. 

Penelope Featherington is his little sister’s best friend. He remembers pushing her on the playground. He remembers her awkward middle school phase, when her mother made her wear yellow and tangerine-colored things. He remembers when she left for college with El, shy and nerdy and uncomfortable in her skin, and he remembers her at the next Thanksgiving, more confident and beautiful than ever. 

And now, here she is, sitting on his bed, dressed up and crying about her date with another man, but (pardon his drunk brain here) still one of the most radiant women in the world. 

She’s his little sister’s best friend, but, holy fuck, does he want to kiss her. 

“Colin?” she asks after a minute of silence. 

He swallows. “So you have to be comfortable with someone to kiss them?”

She gives him a weird look. “Yes?”

“Pen,” he says, leaning close and looking at her mouth. “Are you comfortable with me?”

Her next inhale is loud. “I...Yes.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“....Yeah, Colin, you can kiss me.”

She tastes like champagne. She tastes like champagne and peaches and her lips are soft and she makes the sweetest sounds as his hands find themselves buried in her soft, red hair. She’s a little stiff at first, a little unsure, but, she relaxes with a sigh when he pulls back just enough to whisper, “Relax, Pen, I’ve got you.”

And, say what you want about Pen, but she’s always been a clever, quick learner, and the kiss moves from soft and gentle to something a little more...intense. He still moves slowly, as to not scare her, laying her on his bed without stopping the kiss. She tenses when his tongue flicks out, rubbing against her lower lip, but she reciprocates the movement until he groans and tugs her hair. 

She gasps out his name, tugging at his dark locks until he’s laying between her thighs, harder than he’s been from just a kiss since high school prom. The curves of her body--of her breasts, her hips, her stomach--fit perfectly with the hard lines of his own. The music from the party still reaches upstairs, providing a rhythm for them as they press together, mouths hot and slick and, finally, as Penelope locks her thighs around Colin’s slim waist, grinding against each other. 

“Fuck, Pen,” he gasps out at the contact, pulling back to look at her. At her sparkling eyes, at her pink cheeks, at the ways her chest heaves with her breaths. She looks...holy shit, she looks like a wet dream come to life which feels a little bit like a revelation for him. “You feel--”

Someone pounds on his bedroom door and, then, Eloise calls out, “Hey, Colin, have you seen Penelope? I can’t find her anywhere!” 

Colin springs backward and regrets it immediately when he sees the hurt--embarrassment and regret--flash in her eyes. Her face, somehow, goes even redder, and she jumps from his bed like she had been set on fire. He grabs a pillow to cover his lap.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, obviously panicking. “Oh my god! I can’t believe--”

He reaches out to her and she flinches back. “Pen--”

“Colin?” Eloise calls again, pounding louder. “Have you seen Pen?”

Checking the mirror, Penelope fixes her hair and clothes. It feels kinda useless, considering how well kissed she looks. A part of his brain--the only part of his brain still working a-fucking-pparently--feels a rush of pride at that.

It dies a quick death when she calls out, “I’m in here, El! One sec!”

Before he can even think the words, Colin blurts out in a rushed whisper, “Don’t tell her! She’ll kill me!”

Penelope’s whole face crumples and then hardens as she rolls her eye. An El expression. She pulls the door open and Colin prepares to meet his maker. But she surprises him--how does she always manage to surprise him?--by placing a perfectly acted smile on her face and saying to his sister, “Hey, sorry! Didn’t mean to freak you out, I got sick in the bathroom and Colin helped me escape for a second.”

El’s face goes to worried to sympathetic. “Oh, are you okay?”

“Just think I need some water,” Pen responds with a self-conscious smile. She doesn’t even spare him a look. His chest feels tight, but, before he can say anything, El grabs her hand and starts pulling her downstairs again without a second thought. 

Over her shoulder, she calls, “Thanks, Colin!”

The door shuts behind them and Colin is left with the overwhelming realization that this night, cloudless and starry as it is, is gonna make his life a lot more complicated. It’s not like they were doing anything wrong, he thinks to himself. They were adults! They could do whatever they wanted, thank you very much, Eloise. Penelope needed experience so she could date her Mr. Perfect! He’s only helping her--

His phone rings. An automatic update about the party from Lady Whistledown. Looking only at the section headings, he’s happy to see they aren’t mentioned at all. But Benedict and, with the highest compliments from the anonymous gossip monger, Colin is sure that his art will all be sold tomorrow. 

And, unfortunately for everyone involved, that gives Colin an idea.


End file.
